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It was another autumn, the refreshing wind blew through the grass in the north of the Great Wall, and groups of cattle and sheep drove from the north to the south. The wind at the border pass carries traces of blood, blowing the general flags standing on the city wall. The setting sun on the horizon reflects the blood in the village, and the withered and yellow grass drifts in the wind. The immature boy dragged his long knife and walked towards Mobei step by step...

Isn't it just worshiping a ruined temple? A voice always appeared in Zhang Daoquan's mind, claiming to be the way of heaven. After half a month of continuous torture, Zhang Daoquan finally gave in and resolutely set foot on the train to Kunlun Mountain...